


For Tomorrow

by suspendedinice



Series: Modern Life is Rubbish [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes and the 21st Century, Coming Out, Gay Bucky Barnes, Gay Peter Parker, Gay Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mentors, Period-Typical Homophobia, Steve Rogers Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, the team have no idea what's going on as per usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:27:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24965947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspendedinice/pseuds/suspendedinice
Summary: With Bucky finally well enough to receive company, Steve was grateful for any help the team could offer. Especially since he was bound to make mistakes along the way.“I’m sorry,” Peter murmured, “I thought someone would’ve spoken to him about gay rights by now.”“I meant to, I really did,” Steve replied, “I just thought- I thought-”“You thought what, exactly?” Tony interjected, barely raising his eyes from his work, “That you could play gay chicken with the Winter Soldier until he noticed it wasn’t actually a game?”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Avengers Team, James "Bucky" Barnes & Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Modern Life is Rubbish [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1708369
Comments: 52
Kudos: 677





	1. Twentieth Century Boy

Bucky really wished Steve would stop looking at him like that.

Those big, blue-green puppy dog eyes followed him everywhere he turned, and he was getting sick of being stared at like he was something to be pitied. Steve would only do it when he thought Bucky wasn’t looking, but Bucky was sharp enough to catch every forlorn glance.

Even when he wasn’t making pained faces, Steve always had this sombre aura about him, as if he were stuck at a permanent funeral. Bucky supposed that made him the figurative corpse, laying out in an open casket for his best friend to mourn.

Perhaps if Steve didn’t insist on spending every waking hour with him, the effect of it wouldn’t be so unbearable. However, as things were, they were essentially in lockdown together, and Steve wasn’t showing any signs of relaxing and getting some fresh air any time soon. The situation wasn’t doing either of them any good, as far as Bucky could tell.

So far, his recovery had consisted mostly of decent rest, therapy sessions courtesy of Sam Wilson, a cocktail of various unpronounceable medications and, of course, Steve’s sorry expressions. On occasion, another Avenger would visit their floor, making light conversation and playing pretend that this entire situation wasn’t completely abnormal.

Bucky knew more about that than they thought he did. He understood that when people turned up for ‘impromptu’ chats, they had realistically been planned extensively in advance, scripted down to the pauses between words by a bunch of psychologists with theories about how they could work together to talk the crazy out of him.

This was evidenced by the fact that when Tony Stark had first dropped by and the neurotransmitters in Bucky’s brain had gone haywire, the billionaire hadn’t once seemed to experience fear. Rather, he’d acted as if the meltdown were some sort of training exercise he’d been through hundreds of times. Bucky had no doubt that if the situation had escalated, there would have been some sort of physical barrier implemented to prevent him from harming anyone.

All in all, Bucky was more impressed than offended by the team’s preparedness to deal with his episodes, so he entertained the charade when people would appear on his floor ‘out of the blue’ and start mundane conversations about the weather.

“There’s someone else I’d like you to meet, if you’re feeling up to it.” Steve explained over dinner one night, nervously using his fork to play with a heap of mashed potato. It was pretty clear that he had no intention of eating any.

“I thought I’d met everyone already?” Bucky replied through a mouthful of carrots, the words coming out slightly muffled. He could see Steve start to open his mouth, as if he were about to scold him, but he closed it quickly, biting his tongue.

God, Bucky wished Steve would learn how to tell him off again.

“Everyone on the core team, yeah.” Steve eventually nodded, “But there’s this kid, Peter- he interns for Tony, amongst other things. Bit of a child genius. He used to swing by this floor pretty often, actually, but since you’ve been back…”

Bucky wondered how exactly that sentence would’ve finished, had Steve not checked himself.

_Since you’ve been back, I’ve been incredibly reluctant to have many guests over given that you’re likely to get a wee bit skittish and threaten to harm them, or hide in the bathroom, both of which are generally looked down upon in polite society._

He frowned slightly, “When you say _child_ …”

“He’s sixteen.” Steve elaborated. When Bucky outwardly grimaced he amended, “But he’s strong. Stronger than either of us, easily. You don’t need to worry about hurting him, not in the same way as with the others.”

“Is he enhanced?”

The idea of a minor being dosed up with some version of the serum didn’t sit right with Bucky at all. He’d thought it wrong enough that Steve had been roped into it at twenty-three.

“Something like that.”

What the hell did that mean?

Bucky decided that he didn’t want to know, for now.

He speared the remaining carrots on his plate, stuffing them into his mouth and chewing as quickly as he could before swallowing them down, “Sure, why not. Might be nice to see a fresh face around here again.”

He chose to ignore the way that Steve’s eyebrows rose in textbook surprise, refusing to respond to the spark of optimism in his expression. Things always seemed to go like this; Steve would make a suggestion, Bucky would agree because he couldn’t bear to see this man who had suffered so much on his behalf endure any more pain, and then something would go horrifically wrong and, ultimately, they’d mutually agree that it had been too much too soon.

There was always this assumption that he _would_ get better eventually, though, and that was the worst part of it. Just because Bucky’s more aggressive traits had been deprogrammed didn’t mean that he was anywhere close to the man his former self had been, and he feared that the trademark determination of Captain America would prevent his best friend from realising that maybe there was no improving from here.

“That’s great, Buck, really great,” Steve said, sounding so _sincere_ , “Peter will be really happy to hear that, he’s wanted to meet you ever since we got you back.”

Bucky wondered why anyone in their right mind would want to spend time with him, knowing his recent history. Maybe this kid was as blindly hopeful as everyone else seemed to be, or maybe he’d only heard about Bucky’s progress through the rose-tinted filter of Steve’s words. Either way, he was about to be sorely disappointed.

-

Peter Parker was a whole lot smaller than Bucky had pictured. When Steve had assured him that this kid was stronger than either of them, he’d envisioned some huge, hulking, 6’4” unit; not a skinny little doe-eyed boy with an unruly mop of brown hair.

When the teenager had arrived, he’d greeted Steve by charging up to him and throwing himself straight into his arms. Steve had responded in turn by hugging Peter back tightly, then stepping back and holding him by the shoulders at arms’ length, looking him up and down.

“You’re taller than you were last time I saw you.” Steve remarked, and Bucky wondered just how short the kid must’ve been before for that to be true.

“Maybe a little,” Peter smiled, “I think Mr. Stark is getting worried that I’ll outgrow him.”

Steve laughed heartily, replying, “His concerns might be legitimate. I think I’m safe for a while longer though, at least.”

“I’m pretty sure a growth spurt intense enough to make me taller than you would rip my skin to shreds.” Peter said, shuddering at the thought.

Letting go of the kid’s shoulders and gesturing for him to follow him over to the sofa, Steve nodded towards Bucky, with a quick, “Peter, Bucky. Bucky, Peter.”

Peter positively beamed at Bucky, offering out his right hand. Bucky quickly glanced at Steve, who was presently hovering over them like an anxious parent who just wanted Bucky to get on with his kid.

It was the first time anyone besides Steve had willingly stuck a limb anywhere near him since the turn of the century, and the feeling of the smaller hand enclosed in Bucky’s own when he took it was completely alien. He had to keep reminding himself under his breath that this wasn’t an ordinary child, and he wasn’t endangering him, the mantra echoing through his mind as a coping mechanism.

He managed to blurt out a quick, “Hello,” and Peter’s smile seemed to stretch out impossibly, almost reaching ear to ear as dimples started to appear on his cheeks.

“Hi.” Came the shy response, “It’s great to finally meet you.”

Bucky couldn’t quite bite back a grimace, but he rectified the expression swiftly, his face becoming neutral again as Peter took a seat on the sofa opposite his.

“Do either of you want anything to eat?” Steve offered, doing an awkward little weight-shift between either foot.

“I’m good thanks, I’ve had lunch.” Peter replied.

“Could I just have a cup of coffee? These meds make me feel so tired all the damn time.” Bucky sighed.

That sad look flickered across Steve’s eyes again before he hid it with one of his media smiles and turned away, heading towards the kitchen.

Peter shifted a little in his seat; Bucky wasn’t sure if the kid was uncomfortable or intimidated, and he momentarily wished that Steve were here to break the ice, because Peter didn’t look prepared to. Apparently he’d missed the memo the other team members had received about scripting conversations.

“So, you’re the kid who could overpower either of us, then?” Bucky finally asked when he couldn’t bear the silence anymore.

Peter reddened slightly, “Did Steve tell you that?”

“With complete confidence. He didn’t tell me much else, though, besides the fact that you’re Stark’s protege.” He paused for a second, sizing the kid up, “ _My_ question is, what sort of sixteen-year-old is strong enough to hold his own against a pair of super-soldiers _and_ smart enough to be on Tony’s radar?”

His blush only deepening, Peter bowed his head, mumbling, “The sort of sixteen-year-old who got bitten by a radioactive spider and ended up being able to bench a few more pounds than he ever had before.”

Images of a skinny guy donned in red and blue spandex flashed across Bucky’s mind, the emblem of a Noble False Widow in the centre of his chest. He’d featured in a few videos of the Avengers’ battles, with his most notable skill set including slinging webs and being able to endure a hell of a lot of weight being flung at him, if the footage of him catching a bus was anything to go by.

He’d wondered, on occasion, whose face was behind the mask.

“You’re Spider-Man.”

“Since about eighteen months ago, yeah.”

He didn’t seem to be fazed by his secret identity being determined. Bucky supposed that living in the tower full time gave him clearance to know, as well as the fact that he literally never saw anyone who wasn’t also an Avenger. It wasn’t as if he had the capacity to spread the word.

“That explains the strength thing,” Bucky nodded slowly, “But I never heard anything about spiders being particularly bright, and you’re also the resident whiz kid.”

There was that nervous laughter again, as Peter responded, “I don’t know about that…”

“Yes, you do.” Bucky countered, recognising his lack of self-confidence, “You’re allowed to admit that you’re smart, you know.” For an associate of Tony, Peter sure hadn’t picked up any of the guy’s self-assuredness.

“I’m not, uh, I mean, I guess I’m sort of-”

The kid’s jittery rambling was interrupted by Steve returning with a steaming hot mug of black coffee, which he carefully placed on a coaster in front of Bucky before taking a seat beside Peter.

“Thanks.” Bucky said simply, genuinely meaning it. As he lifted the cup to his lips and took his first sip of piping hot liquid energy, some of his nerve endings seemed to reawaken. The bitter taste of it was somehow equally placating and revitalising.

“Are you two hitting it off, then?” Steve asked with a lopsided smile, more nervousness seeping through his tone than he intended.

“Mm.” Bucky hummed, putting his cup back down, “Peter was just telling me about his secret identity.” He narrowed his eyes slightly, “You never told me they let teenagers be superheroes these days.”

Steve chuckled, settling back a little into the sofa and crossing his ankles, “What, are you going to lecture him about fighting too, same as you did to me when we were kids?”

“Of course not, this is different.” Bucky smirked, “He can lift about ten tonnes _and_ he’s a genius. You could hardly carry my little sisters, and you had about two brain cells bouncing around your skull at any given moment.”

When he looked up, he expected Steve to be laughing, but instead he was met with an expression of pure elation.

“You remember them? Your sisters?”

“I…”

_In his mind’s eye dwelled a trio brunettes. One was tall and fearless, forever melting their mother’s head with her scuffed shoes and scraped knees. Another was smaller and shyer, her gentle mannerisms matched by the feather-light timbre of her voice. The third was still a toddler the way he remembered her, her downy hair pulled into pigtails and her pudgy fingers clinging onto his own as they walked down Atlantic avenue together._

It was a real memory. Not like the memories Sam and Steve would try to coax out of him- words in books, freeze-frames of his younger self laughing and joking that he would absorb in an academic manner and try to retain. This came from the recesses of his own mind.

“There were three of them. Becca and Rose and- and Ida?” His tone was imploring, as if he were begging Steve to tell him that the memories weren’t false.

Watery-eyed but smiling, Steve confirmed, “That’s right, Buck.”

“They’re all… They’re dead now.”

Steve’s smile dropped and he nodded solemnly, “Ida passed on about a year before I came out of the ice. She was eighty-nine.”

“I remember her being this high.” Bucky was gesturing to the space in front of his knee.

Everything felt a little bit out of sync.

He took a moment to reflect on these new discoveries, people to mourn whom he hadn’t even been aware of when he’d woken up this morning. Then he swallowed his grief, saving it for another time when he didn’t have company. He’d gotten good at that, with plenty of practice.

Bucky turned to Peter, “Sorry to bore you, kid. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about my family history.”

“I do, actually.” Peter said softly, “I know- I get how important it is, remembering the family you’ve lost.”

Bucky got the sense that there was a weight behind those words.

Steve reached out his arm and put it around Peter’s shoulder, pulling the kid closer and letting him lean into his side. They really looked like they were related, their body language comfortable and trusting. Bucky thought that maybe he and Steve had something like that, once, but now everything was so careful and fragile.

Touches were dangerous for Bucky now; what had been instinctual to him in the past was now a territory he didn’t want to breach. Yet, in this moment, he envied the ease with which the people before him were interacting.

“You’ve made some really important progress today, Buck.” Steve said, “I think- that might be enough conversation for now, maybe.” Bucky had been informed that whilst jogging his memory was encouraged, too much at once could cause undue issues, so he understood the segue. “Are you both okay with watching a movie?”

Peter nodded, still looking comfortable as he rested his head on Steve’s shoulder. Bucky felt a sudden pang of guilt at the thought that he’d been keeping them from seeing each other, considering that they were apparently this close- Steve hadn’t told him that he’d acquired an honorary son since becoming a resident of the 21st century.

“Bucky?” Steve frowned.

He blinked as he remembered that he was supposed to be providing an answer, “Yeah, a movie sounds good.”

“Fantastic. Tony recommended a trilogy- Jason Bourne, I think it’s called? Seems like a knockoff James Bond to me, but…”

Bucky half-listened to Steve’s musings, but his eyes were glazing over slightly as his thoughts drifted back towards his sisters. He hadn’t been able to miss what he’d assumed he’d never had, but now he was feeling their absence, the longing to see them again washing over him, tugging at the very fibre of his being.

He wondered how Steve had coped with it- waking up to a world with billions of unfamiliar faces, the people he’d known buried and gone. Like ripping off a band aid, he’d had to process every death at once. Bucky had never had the chance to contemplate what he was losing as the years passed him by. In a sense, that was a blessing, but it meant that he was more than likely about to have a series of realisations similar to this one.

Glancing over at Steve, who had now employed Peter’s help in sorting out the movie, he began to appreciate a little more why the man seemed to cling on to him so much, despite his fragile mental state. It would be understandable for anyone who’d had the floor ripped from beneath them in such an aggressive way to keep hold of the last patch of familiar territory they had, no matter if it were in a pitiful condition.

“There we go.” Steve said with a satisfied smile as the opening credits rolled. Bucky sat back and channelled his focus onto the screen, watching attentively as the protagonist was introduced.

He found himself on the verge of laughter at multiple moments throughout the film; Steve had told him that he and Peter were fond of ridiculous action movies, and this certainly fitted that brief. He couldn’t mark it well for realism, but the entertainment value was there. In fact, it was present to enough of an extent that he could tune out the invasive thoughts about the family he used to have, as well as the friend who was sitting mere feet away from him and yet whom he’d never felt more distant from.

-

“So you just press source, then HDMI2, because that’s the port you’ve connected the cable to-”

“And then it’s ready?”

“Right. You just navigate the site with- yeah, that’s right.”

Bucky chuckled, “Hey Steve, Peter’s just taught me in ten minutes what you still haven’t learned how to do after how long?”

“Beginner’s luck.” Steve tutted, putting three glasses of soda out on the coffee table, “You’ll never be able to repeat it when he’s not around.”

“Jealousy is the ugliest trait.” Bucky sighed, snorting when Steve shot him a snide expression.

This was Peter’s fifth visit, and Bucky had decided that it was time to learn to use the television himself, since every week they seemed to go through the same routine of Steve trying and failing to sort it and the kid stepping in to save him.

“Well,” Steve conceded, sinking into the sofa beside Peter, “You were always better with tech than me.”

_“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky tapped the smaller man’s arm, trying again a little harder when he didn’t stir, “I know you aren’t asleep, listen to this.”_

_Steve groaned, keeping his eyes screwed shut. Bucky took this as a signal to continue._

_“This guy thinks that in 2030, they’re gonna have ‘stereoscopic television in full natural colours’, with loudspeaker sound systems. Isn’t that crazy?”_

_“Mad.” He agreed, “But we’re not going to be around to see it, so I’m not sure why it matters.”_

_“Jesus, you can’t stop being an old man for five seconds?”_

_“Not a chance. G’night, Buck.”_

“You didn’t care about colour television, because you thought we wouldn’t live to witness it.” Bucky monotoned, trying to dredge up more of the memory. His efforts proved to be in vain, and he huffed in frustration as he brought his gaze upwards to look at Steve and Peter.

“I think I remember that conversation.” Steve mumbled, “I was barely awake, but you were obsessed with that book of predictions. Couldn’t stop reading them out to me.”

“Book of predictions?” Peter asked.

“‘The World in 2030 A.D’.” Bucky answered, “I’m pretty sure most of it was wild conjecture, but the author wasn’t so far off with some of it.”

“Huh.” Peter smiled, “Maybe you should buy a copy of it, now that we’re close to having the real year to compare it to.”

Bucky put the remote control down beside him and leaned back, folding his arms, “I guess that could be interesting…”

“And it could help with your memory, right?” Peter continued, “It’s worth a try.”

Steve shot Bucky an optimistic smile, delighted with the idea, then asked J.A.R.V.I.S to add an edition of the book to his shopping basket for the week. The AI complied, and for the first time in a while, Bucky could feel something like hope blooming in his chest.

What was it about Peter Parker that kept triggering these memories?

He decided he didn’t care. He also decided that he wouldn’t mind if the kid would stop by more often.

-

The first time Peter visited Bucky alone wasn’t really planned. It was more of an impromptu reaction to Steve being pulled out for a quick reconnaissance mission with Natasha about ten minutes into a movie night.

“And you’re sure you’re both okay with this?”

Steve’s voice had the tone of a mother hen again, and Bucky rolled his eyes dramatically, deciding that if Steve was going to try and baby him then he was happy to play the part of a sardonic teenager.

“I’m sure.” Peter smiled, lolled back across the sofa like a contented cat, “We’ve spent plenty of time together, right Mr. Barnes?”

What was with this kid’s obsession with calling people by their proper titles?

“Bucky.” He corrected, “But yeah, Steve, we’ll be grand. I have to start spending time away from you with other people at some point, right?”

Steve lowered his gaze, nodding with a muted, “Right.”

Being left with Peter wasn’t as strange as Bucky had anticipated spending time with people who weren’t Steve would be.

The kid was watching him with obvious pride as he managed to use the remote control to navigate the television and select some cheesy action comedy, remembering how he’d been taught to do it. Peter made him feel like such an old man sometimes.

They shared popcorn and laughter as the thing played out, the CGI as ridiculous as the costumes and the hyperbolic script.

“Oh, please,” Bucky complained at one point, “who has the consciousness of thought to come up with one-liners when they’re in the middle of a fistfight?”

“Uhh…” Peter scratched the back of his neck, “Sometimes it’s nice to have a bit of a dialogue.”

“You _talk_ to the people you fight? Wait, why am I surprised. Of course you do.” He smirked, “You know, Stevie always had a smart mouth on him too.”

“He did?”

“Oh yeah. Didn’t care about the size of the guy he was insulting. Most of the fights he started were down to some comment he’d mutter a little too loudly under his breath.”

“Huh.” Peter acknowledged, “It’s weird to try and imagine him not having the upper hand. I can’t really picture Steve as the little guy.”

“It was stranger vice versa.” Bucky furrowed his brow, “Seeing him big, after he’d been this angry terrier for as long as I’d known him.”

_Bucky squinted at the large figure above him, the face just about recognisable but the rest of him unfamiliar._

_“It’s me. Steve.” The man reassured him, and something about that word sounded like home._

_“Steve.” Bucky repeated, the ghost of a smile forming on his lips. Then, he felt himself being lifted, his muscles objecting to the strain of moving after being kept static for so long._

_Steve held him up and gawped at him with abject amazement, as if an angel had appeared before his eyes with some great prophecy._

_“I thought you were dead.”_

_“I thought you were smaller.”_

“I guess if you’re so used to someone it’d come as a shock.” Peter said thoughtfully, snapping Bucky out of his reverie.

Bucky nodded, “I think- I think I remember being mad at him, at first. Like- how dare he go and risk his life for something so experimental.” He chewed on his lower lip, remembering the seething fury in his veins once he understood the risk Steve had taken. “After that, I started getting used to it, and then all I could think about was how he’d never have to spend another night up fighting for his life against a fever, and that was good enough for me.”

“You just wanted him to be safe.” Peter mused, sitting up slightly, and propping himself up by his elbows, which were bent behind him.

“Of course,” Bucky sighed, “which is why I probably shouldn’t get so upset with him for trying to protect me, now. I don’t mind the way he’s so careful but those _faces_ he makes… I can’t tolerate the pity. I’d take anything over that.”

Peter furrowed his brow, focusing his gaze directly ahead of him instead of at Bucky, “When he looks at you like that- I don’t think that’s pity.”

He was speaking with such confidence that Bucky was about to ask what would give him that notion, but he was interrupted by the sound of the elevator alert informing them that Steve was back. Peter seemed to jump slightly at the intrusion, as if caught red-handed talking about something that he wasn’t supposed to.

“Everything okay?” Steve asked them, shrugging off his jacket and slinging it over the back of a chair before coming over to join them in the living area.

“Everything’s fine, Steve, nobody died. Relax.” Bucky assured him, though he was still looking over at Peter semi-quizzically.

If Steve wasn’t pitying him, then what were the prolonged stares about?

He spent the rest of the evening half tuned in to the conversations at hand but half puzzling over what Peter had been reluctant to tell him.

-

Bucky didn’t really consider many of the Avengers to be his friends.

There was Steve, and there was Sam, and then there were an assortment of acquaintances who drifted in and out at their own leisure. Bucky had been fine with that. Then, he started to realise that Peter Parker’s weekly appearances were becoming something that he would actively look forward to, and that perhaps making new friends wasn't impossible after all.

“He was wondering if he could drop by this afternoon, after school.” Steve explained one Thursday, “Obviously if you don’t want the usual routine disrupted-”

“Of course he can.” Bucky interrupted dismissively, “He can come by whenever he wants.”

-

It was blatantly evident that Peter was upset before he even opened his mouth. Like Steve, his face was far more expressive than he ever wanted it to be, his emotions in upper case for anyone who wanted to read them. Also like Steve, he tried to hide his feelings in spite of their obviousness.

The kid jumped deftly over the back of the couch, slumping into the cushions, and letting his backpack drop onto the floor beside him with a thud. Bucky raised an eyebrow at the unusual display of teenage angst, but Steve either didn’t notice or pretended not to.

“You alright, kid?” Bucky enquired once it was evident that Steve wasn’t going to.

“I’m fine,” He lied through an exhausted voice, closing his eyes, “I just wanted to spend some time with you guys today.”

Steve had apparently finally picked up on the non-verbal cues because he asked, “Everything okay at school?”

Peter nodded sullenly, eyes still tight shut.

“How about at home?”

Peter made a noise a little bit like a distressed goat, rolling onto his side and burying his face into the back cushion of the sofa. Steve furrowed his brow, looking across at an equally concerned Bucky and then moving towards the couch.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I just want to forget about it.”

Steve inhaled deeply, then sighed, “Okay. I won’t press the issue now, but I want you to speak to either me or Tony before you leave, kid.”

“But-”

“No buts. When we said you could talk to us about anything, we meant it, alright?”

Peter opened one eye, watching Steve cross the room to take a seat on the sofa next to Bucky, “Alright.”

Bucky had been getting better at physical contact. After a particularly lengthy session talking to Sam, he’d decided that he was ready for simple touches from Steve- little things, like being shoulder to shoulder as they sat on the sofa together, or getting a pat on the back when he was upset.

That didn’t mean he was anywhere near prepared for hugs, or for Steve to go anywhere near his metal arm, but it was an improvement, nonetheless. Having Steve sitting beside him felt… Right, somehow. Like some sort of balance had been restored to the world.

Another positive development had been Steve’s increasing willingness to go and attend to his own needs again. Whereas he’d previously been adamant that he wasn’t leaving Bucky alone, now he’d take the odd trip to somewhere else in the tower fairly routinely, and he’d even left the premises completely for a coffee with the other teammates about a week ago. It seemed a lot more sane to Bucky that his best friend was able to has a life of his own out of the restrictions of the four walls he lived within, even if Bucky himself wasn’t ready to face the outside world yet.

What didn’t feel right, however, was Peter’s deflated mood. For as long as Bucky had known the kid, he’d been impossibly buoyant, and now he was physically sinking lower and lower into the couch cushions, as if he wanted to disappear.

He got the sense that he wasn’t supposed to ask what was wrong, though; Steve had been very specific about who Peter should be talking to, and given that he and Tony were closest to the kid, it made sense that they’d be the most aware about what was getting him down. If it was his home life that was bothering him, maybe it was something to do with the familial loss he’d hinted at a while ago.

Maybe it was none of Bucky’s business.

He was torn out of his contemplative state as Steve’s cell phone vibrated.

Steve reached into his back pocket, taking the device, accepting the call, and lifting the phone to his ear with a, “Hello?”

Bucky took a second to survey Peter, who had now opened both eyes and was peering at Steve with curiosity.

“Yeah but… I know, but now isn’t exactly a good time. Peter’s here and- no, I know. I know, Tony… Well I don’t think he’s exactly in the mood…” He glanced worriedly at the kid, “No, I’m not going to- okay. Okay, five minutes. Fine. See you in a second.”

Steve tucked his phone back into his pocket, explaining, “Tony wants me to come and sign off on some disclaimer forms. Apparently SHIELD have come up with some new procedural guidelines again.”

He stood up and gave Peter an apologetic look, “You can come down with me if you’d like?”

“I think I’d rather stay here for now.” Peter replied, probably anticipating a conversation he wasn’t ready for yet if he were to end up in a room alone with Steve and Tony.

Steve nodded, “Alright. I’ll be back in five minutes or so, shouldn’t be anything too tedious from what was said.”

With that, he made his way out, leaving Bucky alone with Peter again, the kid staring at the ceiling vacantly and Bucky twiddling his thumbs.

“So…” Bucky began, trailing off when he realised that he had no idea where his sentence was supposed to be going.

The corner of Peter’s mouth turned upwards slightly, and Bucky was glad that the kid could at least find levity in his social awkwardness. Emboldened by the change of mood, Bucky ventured to continue.

“Do you want to talk about it, or, uh-”

“Can we just talk about something else? I’d prefer to be distracted right now.”

Bucky could understand that. Sometimes, talking things through was more suffocating than holding them in until he was truly ready to share them.

“Okay.” He nodded, circumspecting the room for literally any topic of conversation. His eyes landed on Peter’s discarded backpack, the front pocket of it nearly completely obscured by an array of badges. Bucky had noticed the pins before, and whilst he knew what some of them meant, enough of them were a mystery to him that he figured it could be an interesting topic of conversation.

“What do those mean?” He asked, pointing to the collection.

Peter had to roll onto his side to see what Bucky was gesturing towards, and when he did something like enthusiasm seemed to spark in his eyes. He swung his legs over the edge of the sofa, getting into a seated position (albeit a strange one) and lifting the bag onto his knee.

“Which ones don’t you recognise?”

“I, uh…” Bucky squinted, “It’s probably easier to start with the ones I _do_ , since there aren’t many. I know that one stands for Black Lives Matter,” He pointed at a badge with the three letters of the acronym in bold, “I heard about that on the news. And uh, the one next to it is something to do with Star Wars, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

Bucky lifted his hand up and rested his chin in it, “I’m pretty sure the one beneath that is related to that British band you like, and the one next to it is too.” He waited for Peter to nod in confirmation, then concluded, “The others don’t ring a bell.”

“You did pretty well getting as many as you did.” Peter said, clearly impressed, “The others are- wait, you said you don’t recognise _any_ of them?”

Frowning, Bucky looked over the badges once more, checking to see if there was anything obvious that he’d missed, “Nope.”

“What about this one?” The kid was pointing to a fairly simplistic badge- it was divided into six sections, each one with a different hue. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet.

“No.” Bucky said, then, “Why, should I know it? I’m sorry if it’s a reference to something you’ve watched with me, my short-term memory still isn’t-”

Peter’s face dropped, “It isn’t a reference,” He interjected, his voice soft and solemn, “Has nobody spoken to you about pride yet?”

“Pride?”

“Yeah, Bucky.” Peter’s voice shook slightly, and Bucky flinched as he realised this was the first time Peter had used his first name, “Gay pride- queer pride, I guess you’d call it.”

The word slammed into his chest like a tonne of rocks, winding him instantaneously.

_“Who the fuck is this?” Screamed the man pinning Steve to the rough brickwork, his voice somewhere between anger and fear._

_Steve’s own timbre was weak, strangled by the hand around his neck as he rasped, “Bucky.”_

_It wasn’t a reply to his attacker, but a plea for his closest friend to save him._

_“Put him down.” Bucky’s words were measured, calm. There was something else there too, though; an edge carved out barely beneath the surface._

_“Or what? You gonna beat me up to save your little faggot friend?”_

_The brute seemed to find this notion funny._

_Bucky wasn’t laughing._

_The kick he landed to the man’s shin was sharp and quick, and the smug expression was wiped off his face as he leapt backwards, clinging onto the injured limb pitifully. Bucky followed up by shoving the man backwards by the shoulders, hard, causing him to topple to the ground like a building demolished at its foundation._

_Bucky aimed a scornful look at the man, then turned away from him, his expression immediately softening at the sight of Steve’s frame slumped against the wall. Offering out his hand, Bucky helped his friend up effortlessly, lifting Steve’s arm over his shoulder and wrapping his own arm around his waist._

_“Fucking queers!” Came a slurred cry from the ground. Bucky turned towards him again only to check that he was still incapacitated, then impassively started to walk away with Steve tucked safely against his side._

_“You okay, pal?”_

_He was staring at his shoes, so all Bucky could see at him was his ruffled blonde hair._

_“I’m fine, Buck.” He murmured. There was no humour in his tone- none of his usual jokes about having anyone on the ropes. He sounded… Defeated._

_They walked in silence for a while through the quiet streets, in the humid summer evening air. It wasn’t until they reached the door to their apartment complex that Steve spoke again, tired but insistent._

_“I’m not, you know.”_

_“What?”_

_“I’m not what he said I was.” At Bucky’s befuddled expression, he clarified, “Queer. I’m not- I don’t know why he thought… I’m not.”_

_“Okay.” Bucky said simply._

_He felt a sense of tranquillity within him; Steve wasn’t queer._

_The fact that Bucky definitely was had nothing to do with it. Things were easier like this._

“Queer… Pride?” The phrase seemed oxymoronic.

“Yeah. It’s- this is the flag that was designed in the seventies to represent the movement. People stepped up to fight for the right to end the illegality of homosexuality, then every other inequality that queer people have faced since.” Peter spoke quickly and clinically, as if giving a presentation at school that he’d been dreading. His face was flushed bright scarlet.

Bucky’s first instinct was to jump in and deny anything that could rouse suspicion, so that was exactly what he did.

“And you thought I’d know what it was supposed to mean because..?”

Peter had huddled his limbs close to him, “You said you’d heard about Black Lives Matter. I thought you might’ve heard about the gay rights movement too, or that somebody would’ve mentioned it at some point” He sighed, with a withdrawn, “I’m sorry.”

It didn’t sound like he was apologising for implying that Bucky should be knowledgeable in that field. It sounded more like a confession of sympathy, of sorrow that nobody should have thought to tell Bucky about how matters of sexuality were treated in the 21st century.

“Do you know something?” Bucky said quietly, skin itching with anxiety as he managed to imply about himself what he was pretty sure Peter had already implied about him, “Did they- in the history books, was there something there?”

 _Was there something I slipped up on,_ was what he was really asking.

Peter paled, shaking his head rapidly and replying, “No, nothing at all in writing- I mean, I didn’t mean to-” He grimaced as he realised that he'd somewhat confirmed Bucky's suspicions that his secret wasn't such a secret after all. Looking downwards, he quietly added, “None of us thought you were alive to be outed."

So some people did know- had known, since before he'd returned. 

Though he looked sick to his stomach, Peter managed to continue, "Steve never would’ve said anything about it, had he the slightest suspicion that you were still-”

Bucky’s own stomach dropped, his heart thudding so hard he could he feel his rib cage struggling to contain it.

“Steve… He knew?”

At this, Peter seemed to do a double take, blinking as if he’d fallen asleep then woken up in an unfamiliar environment. He’d said something out of turn, certainly, because the look on his face told Bucky that he was currently mentally berating himself for his words. It didn’t seem as if the kid was going to say anything else anytime soon either, so Bucky found himself breaking the silence once more.

“Look, Peter, I think this- this is a lot for me to process. I might call it a night, if you want to go down and see what Steve and Tony wanted to speak to you about?”

Still dumbstruck and wide-eyed, Peter nodded slowly, taking hold of his backpack and lifting it over one shoulder carefully, before standing and treading towards the elevator. Once he was about halfway there, something seemed to occur to him, as he stopped in his tracks, turning his head towards Bucky, and speaking timidly.

“You know, you might want to ask J.A.R.V.I.S about recent gay rights developments. It’s… It’s okay, you know. There’s nothing wrong with…” His voice wobbled slightly, and he bowed his head again, hunching his shoulders and frowning as if disgusted with himself.

Without another word, he left.

As soon as Peter was gone, Bucky made a beeline for his quarters, resolving to find out as much as he could about his apparent newfound rights before he had to confront Steve about any of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's finally a sequel!
> 
> As always, I appreciate any comments/kudos anyone wants to leave, and I intend to have the next chapter up within a reasonable time frame!.
> 
> (also, if you want to come talk to me on tumblr you can find me at https://leashlessconfusion.tumblr.com/)


	2. Hanging On for Dear Life

Peter dragged his heels across the rough floor leading to Tony’s lab, unbothered by the slight scraping sound they were making since he knew Steve would hear his arrival either way. He didn’t want to have either conversation that he was here for, but he had to sooner or later, and he’d decided to power through them rather than delaying the inevitable.

He turned the corner to find Tony and Steve chatting amicably, Tony leaning over his latest attempt at a prototype cooling system and Steve sitting opposite him, using a ballpoint pen to rapidly sign a stack of official-looking documents. When the latter noticed Peter enter, he turned his head sharply, alerting Tony to do the same, and the pair of them shot him a quick smile.

“Hey, kid.” Steve greeted him as Peter pulled a stool back from the central lab table the other two were already perched at, hopping up onto the seat and ungracefully dropping his backpack on the surface in front of him.

Apparently recalling that Peter hadn’t initially agreed to come down and see them, Steve then frowned slightly, asking, “Is everything alright?”

Peter buried his head in his hands. He heard the rhythmic scribbling of Steve’s pen ease to a halt, though he could still hear Tony’s tinkering through his right ear.

A mistake that people often seemed to make about Tony Stark was assuming that he wasn’t a good listener. His tendency to multitask had originally led Peter to come to the same conclusion, but with time he’d learned that just because the scientist wasn’t making eye contact, it didn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention.

Yes, he chose his moments to ignore things, but whenever Peter had come to him with something important, Tony had given it ample thought, never dismissing his feelings. So despite the fact that he was currently simultaneously busy with something else, Peter was dead certain that Tony was taking in every word he was saying.

“Not really,” Peter finally replied, keeping his palms firmly placed over his eyes, “I’m pretty sure I messed up. Like, really badly.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked gently, putting on the concerned responsible adult voice he reserved especially for Peter, “Did- has Bucky remembered something again? Some of his memories aren’t pleasant, Peter, and he might need some time to-”

“No, not that.” Peter replied, managing to move his hands down his face a little and spread his fingers to peek through the gaps in them. He could see the confusion gracing Steve’s expression as he continued, “I said something I shouldn’t have, and I think I really- I overstepped, and he’s probably freaking out right now.”

At that, Tony made a sceptical sort of humming sound and, when Peter glanced at him questioningly, followed it up with, “I doubt it. I’ve got J.A.R.V.I.S programmed to keep a constant eye on him precisely so that he doesn’t have any more freak-outs without our knowledge. If you’d set him off, we’d know about it by now.”

“I didn’t mean I made him have a panic attack or anything.” Peter sighed, “I just- you talked about not overwhelming him with information, and I’m pretty sure I managed to do that.”

“Well, the main danger of overwhelming him _is_ triggering altered mind states, so I’d say you’re getting too worried about this.” Steve placated, “Peter, I know that it’s hard not to feel like you’re doing something wrong when you’re talking to someone as fragile as Bucky, but honestly, I’ll have made much bigger mistakes with him than whatever you think you’ve done. I trust you with him, and there’s a reason for that.”

“Yeah, kid, you’re basically a care bear. We know you wouldn’t intentionally try and shock anyone, least of all someone in his state.” Tony added.

“Not intentionally, no,” Peter agreed, “but I’m pretty sure that intentionally or not, nobody wants to find out that some random teenager knows about what you thought was your best-kept secret.”

Steve frowned minutely, and Peter watched as, after a moment of thought, his eyes widened, his whole stance growing more tense as he seemed to comprehend the words.

“You told him about…”

“I didn’t say anything about the two of you- just- he was trying to distract me by asking about the pins on my backpack,” Peter grabbed the fabric of the stupid thing, turning it so that Steve could see the collection of badges, “and I thought- he told me which ones he understood, and the pride pin wasn’t one of them, and I- God, I’m stupid, I asked him if he was sure but he took it as more of an accusation and-”

Peter could feel a strong hand on his back, holding still between his shoulder blades, grounding him.

“Hey, breathe. It’s okay.” Steve soothed, though there was no disguising the raw panic in the Captain’s tone.

“I’m sorry,” Peter murmured, “I thought someone would’ve spoken to him about gay rights by now.”

“I meant to, I really did,” Steve replied, “I just thought- I thought-”

“You thought what, exactly?” Tony interjected, still barely raising his eyes from his work, “That you could play gay chicken with the Winter Soldier until he noticed it wasn’t actually a game?”

“Gay… What?”

“Forget it.” Tony dismissed with a wave of his hand, “I’m just- forgive me if I’m a little confused, but I’d have made the same assumption as the kid. Why _haven’t_ you spoken to him about the LGBT rights movement?”

The hand on Peter’s back was starting to tremble now, and he turned towards Steve in concern.

“We’ve been making slow steps so far.” He began, “Slow, and steady, everything has been like that so far.” With a shaky exhale, Steve continued, “Frankly, I’m fucking terrified that if I clue him in on the actual extent of our relationship _before,_ it’ll either send him back to square one or he’ll feel pressured to push himself further for my benefit, even if it’ll break him. Growing up, he was always doing things for me, and I thought that this once maybe I could give him a break from that.”

“Okay.” Tony said after a moment of contemplation, “But you’re aware that regardless of whether or not he’s romantically involved with you at any given moment, he’s still gay, right?”

The realisation dawning on Steve’s face was painful to watch.

“And in addition, he’s been living with you, a man he’s definitely been physically attracted to before, emotional connection notwithstanding. I’m pretty sure that for the past few months he’ll have been experiencing whatever vintage brand of internalised homophobia he used to before you guys hooked up.”

Steve breathed in as if to prepare a response, but then seemed to slump like a marionette with its strings cut. All of a sudden, he and Peter had essentially traded roles, the teenager now carefully comforting him with a hand on his shoulder.

“I didn’t even think about it like that.” Steve almost whined, “I was so caught up in worrying that I was putting him in an uncomfortable position… Oh, Christ…”

Tony rolled his eyes back in head so far he could probably see his own frontal lobe, “Calm down, Captain Angst. I didn’t mean to guilt trip you; you aren’t solely responsible for his wellbeing. We probably should’ve come up with some sort of induction package similar to the one S.H.I.E.L.D made you, just to cover basic human rights advancements, but we didn’t. This is on all of us.”

Finally seeming to be satisfied with his progress on the cooling system, Tony stepped back from his workspace, wiping his hands unceremoniously on his jeans. He then continued, “Besides, there’s no time like the present. You could always go and speak to him now.”

Steve bit his lip, staring down at his arms which were folded on the tabletop in front of him, “I don’t even know how I’d start. What if he asks me about what we were?”

“Then he’s ready to hear about it, and you tell him.” Tony said, simply.

“Okay.” Steve nodded, frown deepening as he considered, “But what if he doesn’t? What if he thinks I’m just pretending to be supportive? What if he wants to talk to someone who understands, and he doesn’t know that I do?”

With a slightly confused expression, Tony answered, “Just tell him you’re gay too?”

Steve looked slightly tortured.

“I don’t know how to talk about it, without it being in relation to him.” He shifted anxiously, “I would’ve- right away, if I hadn’t thought there was the inevitability of me slipping up and-” His breathing grew more rapid, and he felt an increase in the pressure of Peter’s hand on his shoulder.

After a beat, the kid spoke up.

“I could talk to him.”

Steve stared at him, nonplussed, whilst Tony started to open his mouth, as if to argue.

“No, really, why not? He needs someone who gets where he’s coming from, and you’re not in a position to have that conversation yet, so why don’t I do it? I’m the one who messed this up in the first place, and-”

“You didn’t mess anything up at all, Peter.” Steve sighed, “And you don’t owe this to anybody. You come out in your own time.”

“Maybe this _is_ my ‘own time’.” He snapped, recoiling apologetically at Steve’s startled countenance, “I’ve… I told a few other people this week. It felt pretty good, actually, and it’d be nice to do it again with someone who understands.”

“Other people?” Tony asked gently, trying to feign a neutral level of interest, though his tone betrayed his investment in the situation.

Peter nodded, “Yeah. Ned, MJ- they sort of already knew since the whole outing fiasco but they both took it really well, anyway.” He paused for a beat, “Aunt May, not so much, but I think I got a bit overconfident.”

Peter had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t cry in front of the Avengers ever again, but he could already feel the promise of tears pricking at his eyes. His jaw trembled as he noticed the instantly concerned reactions of the two men, and he found that he couldn’t meet either of their gazes.

“Peter…” Steve started, his voice painfully empathetic.

Tony took an alternative approach, making his way over to stand to the right of Peter.

“Hey, kiddo.” He started, prompting Peter to turn towards him, “First off, I’m proud of you. You did a brave thing, telling your friends and your aunt, and I’m glad that Ned and MJ reacted well. That’s how it should be.” He stopped to think, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before he said, “And I’m so sorry that May didn’t have the same response. Are you ready to talk about it yet?”

“Sure.” He responded quietly, “There isn’t much to say. She didn’t really let me- that is, I tried to tell her, but she kept stopping me, like she expected it, and then she said I’m just young and confused and I’ll grow out of it, basically.” He sniffed, “I don’t know, maybe she’s right.”

“Steve,” Tony asked, a note of mirth in his tone, “Remind me, what age were you when you realised you liked guys?”

“Sixteen.”

“There you go. Peter, he was the same age as you are now when he figured it out, and nothing’s changed even though he’s nearly a hundred.”

“I guess.” Peter conceded, his voice still small, “But she’s so convinced that it’s _wrong._ I think- I think if she really thought this was going to last, she’d want me to try and fix it somehow.”

“Well, you can’t.” Tony answered plainly.

“I used to think that if I just willed it hard enough, the feelings would go away.” Steve started, shrinking in on himself a little as he noticed the two pairs of eyes on him, “Used to pray every night, begging to start feeling how I thought I was supposed to about women, or if it had to be men than that at least I’d stop having thoughts about my best friend, because I couldn’t lose him over that.”

Peter’s hand was back on his shoulder again, rubbing it in circles as Steve had once done for him.

“Then that worry got turned on its head before I had the serum administered. Erskine told me it’d fix anything, you see- all ailments, of the body or the mind, so I assumed… Anyway, I didn’t want to know a life without it, by then. Didn’t want to know how it felt not to want Bucky, since he wanted me in the same way. So I- God knows how I had the audacity to ask, but I did, I asked Erskine if it’d change my- my proclivities, and he just looked at me like I was an idiot and told me that the serum couldn’t fix what wasn’t broken in the first place.”

The air was thick with emotion, and even Tony was rendered speechless by the tale, which was a rarity.

“He made me into the best version of myself, and that person is still queer. It isn’t a flaw, Peter, it’s just like anything else you can’t control. Your Aunt May wouldn’t tell you to try and stop having brown eyes, so it’s unfair of her to expect that you have any more control over your sexuality.”

“Yeah, kid.” Tony finally spoke, his mien subdued, “She’s the one who’s going to have to change, not you. Either she accepts that she has a gay nephew, or she lives in denial of it, but you’re gay either way and I don’t want you dedicating one second to thinking about repressing that for her benefit. You’re just as deserving of love as every straight person out there. Got it?”

Peter couldn’t quite find the words to agree, so he just nodded, admittedly mildly impressed with himself for holding back his tears this time.

With a small smile, Tony then asked, “Anyway, do you want to crash here tonight? I’m assuming that the idea of going home isn’t too appealing right now, so- oh, no, kid, don’t start crying on me now, you’ll set us all off.”

-

It wasn’t until the following morning that Steve saw Bucky again.

When he’d returned to his floor the night before after bidding Peter and Tony goodnight, he’d found Bucky’s door locked, with a scrawled note pinned to it, reading ‘going to bed early. see you tomorrow.’ He’d been relieved at the promise that he would see his companion again soon enough, but he still slept fairly restlessly, wondering if Bucky was still awake too.

He awoke early to the sounds of the television playing faintly in what must have been the living area, so he ventured out in his pyjamas. It was impossible to restrain the smile that came when he saw Bucky sitting there, straining in concentration as he focused on whatever he was watching on the screen. However, the pleasant emotion was wiped off his face as soon as Bucky spoke.

“You knew.”

His voice was gravelly and raw, and Steve could assume, based on this and on the fact that his hair was unkempt and his clothes unchanged, that he’d been up all night.

“I did.” He admitted, trying to ignore the way his chest was seizing up.

“How long?”

“Since 1935.”

Bucky made a cut off sort of choked sound, though his facial expression remained unchanged and his eyes were still fixed on the television. Curiously, Steve turned his own attention to it too, watching as the man in the- show? Documentary? He couldn’t be sure, but he watched him speak.

_“And so a lot of us, at that time, who were gay, had to prove our manhood and so I joined the toughest, most masculine military organisation in the country, and I was a Marine Corp.”_

With a joyless laugh, Bucky shook his head, finding the remote control beside him and pressing pause. “Seems like I wasn’t the only one with that idea.” He murmured, leaving Steve unsure if he was being addressed or not.

“What’s this?” Steve asked once he’d summoned the courage, tentatively choosing to take a seat on the couch opposite Bucky.

“Documentary.” He said absently, “ _Before Stonewall_ , it’s called. Didn’t even know Stonewall existed until last night, but I know all about it now.”

Steve just nodded silently, threading his hands together and resting them in his lap.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Now there was a question.

_“Why didn’t you ever say anything, Buck?”_

_“You told me,” He breathed, his sentence punctuated by desperate kisses at Steve’s neck, “that you weren’t queer. When we were fifteen.”_

_“Oh.” Steve replied, the syllable derailing into a moan when Bucky’s mouth started to move further down his chest, “I lied.”_

_Pulling away for a second and leaving his partner whining at the loss of sensation, Bucky shot him a cheeky lopsided grin, “Uh, yeah, I sure fuckin’ hope so.”_

_“Jerk.”_

_“Punk.”_

“I didn’t want to say anything that would shock you.” Steve said carefully, deciding that sticking with their current timeline was probably the best approach here, “And I thought that just might do it.”

“But you don’t- you didn’t mind?”

Steve’s heart was breaking a little; it was okay, though, he’d been getting used to that lately.

“Of course I didn’t, Bucky. Of course not.” He said as emphatically as he could, “When I said I was with you ‘til the end of the line, I meant it.”

Bucky seemed to stare him down for a few seconds, squinting suspiciously as if Steve were about to turn around and tell him to leave or something, but the blonde kept his expression open and genuine, and this seemed to be enough confirmation for him.

He responded with a simple, “Okay,” but the word was brimming with trust, and Steve vowed to himself not to break it.

“So,” He began when it was clear that Bucky wouldn’t speak again on his own accord, “are you going to finish the documentary?”

“You… You won’t find it weird if I watch it here? With… With you there?”

Part of him wanted to break and tell Bucky immediately. Then again, the fact that he was already considering breaking that boundary made Steve all the more confident that after that there would be no telling if he’d be able to conceal the relationship secret afterwards, so he resolved once again to keep both matters hush.

“Not weird at all, Buck.” He confirmed gently, easing back into the couch cushions a little, doing a decent imitation of relaxation for someone who felt like they were hanging over the edge of a metaphorical cliff.

-

“Hey, Peter, it’s good to see you. Was school okay?”

Steve craned his neck to speak to his guest as he entered, and Peter made his way over to the sofa with his backpack in hand again. He then sat down, resting it in his lap.

“Not too bad.” The kid shrugged, “I totally forgot about this algebra test I had third period, but it went okay in the end. It was mainly basic polynomials, so I don’t think I missed many marks.”

“Sounds like it’d go completely over my head,” Steve admitted, “but I’m sure you breezed through it, whiz kid.”

Humble as he was, the compliment left Peter blushing slightly, like he always did when people complimented his intelligence. Steve wished he’d pick up on some of Tony’s self-confidence sometime soon.

“Yeah, well, um.” Peter stumbled through his words, “How’re things with Bucky?”

“Not awful.” Steve said, his trademark optimism shining through, “We watched a documentary about Stonewall this morning. I think he was up all night, researching everything that he could about the history before that, so he went for a nap a couple of hours ago, but I think he’s already up again because I heard the shower running when I passed his room earlier. He never really liked resting in the middle of the day.”

“Me neither.” Peter grimaced, “I always wake up so disorientated.”

Steve hummed, then seemed to remember that he hadn’t offered his guest anything to eat or drink. Slapping his knee and standing up, he made a gesture for Peter to follow him through to the kitchen area.

Peter leaned back against the counter, his hands tucked into his pockets as Steve searched the cupboards for a box of cookies he was sure were lurking somewhere. He could tell the kid wanted to say something, but by now he knew that the best way to find out what was to wait, rather than pushing him.

“Aunt May texted me a couple of times this morning.” He finally admitted, staring out into space as he recalled the event, “Said she was sorry that I’m upset.”

Steve grimaced, “That isn’t a very good apology.”

“I know.”

Resorting to kneeling on the ground to search the back of the bottom cupboards, Steve continued, “Are you going back home tonight?”

“I don’t think I want to yet,” He sighed, “I’m just- I know that I should’ve expected this, but I’m still so angry with her?”

Peter didn’t usually get angry with anyone. Normally, he was about as prone to holding a grudge as a goldfish, but Steve couldn’t blame the kid for letting this get under his skin.

“She’s invalidating your feelings. It’s understandable that you’re struggling to level with that.” Finally finding the tin he’d been searching for, Steve made a small ‘a-ha’ noise, grabbing and lifting it up onto the counter top, “And I know you don’t want to hear it, but you’re a child. Your aunt is the adult here, and she should be trying harder to make amends.”

“So you don’t think I’m being too harsh?” Peter ventured, aiming for conversational tone but crashing and burning on that attempt pretty badly. He sounded just about ready to crack.

Steve heaved a weary sigh, leaning back against the counter opposite Peter’s and looking him in the eye.

“No, Peter. You need the space, and hopefully it’ll give her the initiative to start questioning her views. It’ll take time for her to come around completely, but she needs to understand that this isn’t something you’re able to just back down from.”

He didn’t say anything in response; but instead just sort of kept staring into the distance with those big brown doe eyes, so Steve wordlessly opened the cookie tin and handed him one. Peter took it with the ghost of a smile, nibbling at the edges of it like a rabbit.

“Glass of milk to go with that?” Steve asked, waiting for the kid to nod, and then heading to the fridge to retrieve it. He took three glasses from the cupboard, pouring milk into two but filling the third with tap water, since that was all Bucky ever seemed to want to drink besides coffee these days.

He passed Peter his glass, then carried the other two through, placing them out on coasters on the coffee table. The kid took the cookies into the living room, putting them down beside the cups and then taking a sip of his milk before placing it on the third coaster.

Before Peter could slump back onto the sofa, he heard a door sliding open from somewhere behind him, and whipped his head around to find the source of the sound.

Bucky seemed slightly alarmed at first when he stepped into the room, his hair tied back, slightly damp from his shower. He was clothed in black sweatpants and a rather baggy grey jumper, which was usually his default outfit when he felt distressed; the physical comfort seemed to counteract whatever psychological discomfort he was feeling.

“Good afternoon.” He said with a sardonic lilt to his voice, approaching the others with a degree of caution, but then settling down beside Steve without seeming too nervous.

“Hi.” Peter replied shyly, an echo of the first time he’d become acquainted with Bucky Barnes. Also much like the first time they’d met, Peter subsequently had absolutely no idea what to say, and Bucky managed to step in with something.

“Thanks,” He said, “for being honest with me. I could see- you were uncomfortable, yesterday, and you felt guilty, but you don’t have to. I’d rather have heard it sooner rather than later, and now I know Steve is okay with me being- listen, thank you, anyway.”

“You really don’t have to thank me for that.” Peter half-whispered, talking to the floor, “I’m glad that you took it well, but I shouldn’t have overstepped like that.”

“Kid, really, it’s fine-”

“No, it isn’t. I know how scary of being outed is. The constant paranoia about it is bad enough on its own without having your fears confirmed, so really. I’m sorry.”

The words were heavy and emphatic, but as soon as they’d left his mouth Peter wondered if he really did deserve to be forgiven.

“It was a mistake.” Steve said gently, and when Peter gathered the courage to look up, the captain’s face was full of sincerity, whilst Bucky’s seemed to be painted with something more akin to pensiveness.

“You said… When you say you know how scary it is…” Bucky was fiddling with his hands, staring at them as if not daring to pose the question to anyone’s face.

“Yeah. I mean I _know_. I… I’d feel really betrayed if someone had done that to me.”

Bucky was nodding slowly now, as if piecing together everything he was hearing. His fidgeting hands stilled, and he looked Peter in the eye again.

“I’ll accept your apology, for your own peace of mind, but I’m not upset with you at all.” He tilted his head slightly, “I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours trying to catch up on everything I missed since- since everything, and it’s just… I couldn’t have imagined that things would change so much.” Cringing a little, he amended, “I mean, I know things still aren’t easy- they seem harder, in so many ways, but the progress that’s been made…”

“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Peter agreed.

“Unthinkable, when I was a kid. I like a lot of things about this century, but I think that the social progression is what’s impressed me the most. And- well, my least favourite thing is probably the people opposing it, but that’s always been an issue.”

“I guess so.”

Steve seemed fairly ecstatic that the conversation was going so well without his intervention, so he sat quietly and watched, allowing himself a subtle smile. He could feel the forlornness behind it though, the guilt gnawing at him and the longing he felt towards Bucky undisguisable. He often wondered if the other man noticed those expressions.

_“That’s a face like a wet weekend, if I’ve ever seen one.”_

_Steve groaned, moving his legs close to him, and hugging them, hiding his face behind his knees, “Why’re you always reading into things?”_

_“It don’t take much reading to notice a frown like that.” Bucky teased, sitting down on the bed and kicking his shoes off before swinging own legs up in front of him, sitting close to Steve._

_“It’s nothing.” Steve grumbled, making a small noise of complaint as he felt Bucky reaching an arm around his shoulder and gently trying to pry him out of his hunched position. “Quit it, Buck, I’m not in the mood.”_

_“Tell me why then, Eeyore. Can’t cheer you up unless I know what’s wrong, can I?”_

_“I don’t need you to cheer me- ow!” Steve finally stuck his head up again as he flinched at the pillow Bucky had expertly hit him on the back of the head with. “Jesus, Bucky, what was that for?”_

_“Lying. Tell me what’s wrong?”_

_When Steve hesitated, Bucky picked up his down-filled weapon again, raising it above his head with a dubious expression._

_“Fine! Fine,” Steve conceded, and his partner lowered his ammunition though, he kept a tight hold of it where it rested in his lap._

_“I just feel… Don’t you ever get angry about- about this?” He gestured vaguely back and forth between them, then at Bucky’s deflating expression, corrected, “No, not this as in- you know I love you. So much it scares the hell out of me sometimes, but- doesn’t it feel unfair to you, that we can’t express that outside these walls?”_

_“That’s not true.” Bucky frowned, “We can get away with it at-”_

_“Get away with it. Like it’s a crime.”_

_“It is a crime, Steve.”_

_“Well it shouldn’t be!” He complained, his frustration intense enough to dominate the atmosphere, “I go to work and I hear Peter Densmore complain about how much he and his wife don’t get on, then Adam Gayle starts about the last dame he was seeing and gives us all the lurid details about his new best gal, and it makes me want to scream because what we have is so much healthier than that, and all we get told is that it’s immoral and unholy and- and-”_

_“But we know it isn’t.” Bucky responded simply, threading the fingers of his right hand through the spaces between Steve’s left, “We know what we are.”_

_“Is that enough?” Steve said, voice quieter now, sounding tired, “When everyone else seems to detest the very idea that two men could…”_

_“It’s enough for me. Always has been. You’re enough.” Bucky sighed, leaning his head down into the crook of Steve’s neck, “Don’t give a shit what the rest of the world thinks. They can brand us filthy queers ‘til the cows come home; won’t change who we are.”_

_“You’re enough for me, too, Buck. Always. I didn’t mean-” He let out a pleased hum as Bucky kissed the junction between his neck and shoulder, “Like I said. I love you so much it fucking terrifies me.”_

_“Don’t need to be terrified.” Bucky reassured, letting go of Steve’s hand but immediately looping his right arm around Steve’s left to snuggle closer to him, “You ain’t losing me unless I drop dead. End of the line, pal.”_

_“End of the line.” Steve repeated, meaning each word with every inch of his being._

If Steve stole a few more longing looks at Bucky that night as the trio conversed, he could be forgiven for it.

-

“How is it now, at school? Do people know?”

“Hm?” Peter looked up from his textbook, trying to interpret the sentence he’d just heard.

He and Bucky were sitting together on a bench at the edge of the gym, positioned perfectly for them to watch Steve spar with Natasha. Bucky was focused fairly intently on the fight, whereas Peter had brought some schoolwork with him to catch up on whilst they sat there.

Bucky had been adjusting better and better in the past few weeks, and now felt fairly comfortable being introduced to new settings in the tower. The gym seemed to be one of his favourites, which Steve theorised was related to the space being large but open, allowing him to observe everyone at a safe distance. Tony suggested that actually, Bucky probably just enjoyed watching Steve shirtless and sweating, but the super-soldier had rejected that idea based on its crassness.

Part of him sort of wanted the billionaire to be right, though.

“Sorry, that came from nowhere. I asked how it is at school. You know, being…”

“Oh. Got it.” Peter folded his textbook closed, sensing that now wasn’t the time to be multitasking. It was the first time Bucky had brought up anything related to what Peter had mentally dubbed the gay revelation since it happened. “Uh, it’s better than it has been. I kinda came out to my best friends properly recently, and they were really good about it, which is nice.”

“Properly?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t exactly the first they’d heard of it, since some kid outed me like a year ago and it was the running joke at school for a while, but I never really admitted it myself, so. It felt good. And most of the people who gave me crap for it back then have grown up a little since, so it’s- yeah, I guess it’s easier now. At school.”

“I thought people were supposed to be better now.” Bucky murmured; his dynamics were low, but his face was seething with anger.

Peter sighed, “Yeah, they’re supposed to be. They are, on a general basis, but I think some people just like to hurt people, because it feels good for them. I guess the whole gay thing was just a new way for them to humiliate me. Like, ‘hey, remember the Parker kid we used to tease for being an orphan then for getting good grades? Turns out he’s a faggot too.’ I’m essentially a bully’s goldmine.”

“If they think any of that is creative, they’re about a seventy years late.” Bucky replied, “There were kids my age who used to poke fun at us for all the same shit. Steve lost his parents young enough for the local brats to make fun of him for it, I did pretty well at math as a kid which really didn’t help me with popularity-” He paused in thought, seeming to remember something, “I don’t think people ever picked up on the queer thing, not with the girls I used to date. But I think- maybe when I was with Stevie, him being smaller and kinda less fortunate with the girls- I think people used to try and insinuate that we were-” His sentence broke off as his introspection intensified, and Peter watched him carefully, as if by studying his expression he’d be able to read his mind.

“Bucky?” Steve's voice interrupted, through heavy breaths. Natasha seemed to be one of the only people able to make Steve break a sweat when they sparred together, as well as the only one who could ever beat him hand-to-hand. Red-faced and panting, Steve looked down at Bucky, obvious concern showing in is expression as he spoke, “Buck, what’s wrong?”

His troubled expression dropped almost as quickly as it had overtaken him, and with an unreadable countenance, Bucky insisted that there was nothing wrong at all, but he was ready to go back to their floor again now.

“Okay, Buck. Okay.” Was pretty much all Steve could say to that, and Peter packed up his things to go and sit with Tony in the lab instead.

-

“Captain Rogers, I apologise for waking you, but I regret to inform you that Sergeant Barnes seems to be experiencing a night terror.”

“Thank you, J.A.R.V.I.S.” Steve said groggily, stumbling out of bed and fumbling for his boxers because he sure as hell wasn’t about to turn up in Bucky’s room in the middle of the night stark naked.

He could hear the screaming before he even opened the door, and he had to make a conscious effort to hold back tears. This wasn’t about him.

It had been months since the last time this had happened, and as Steve entered the room and saw the love of his life thrashing uncontrollably in the darkness, his eyes wide open and panicked even in his deepest stage of sleep, he couldn’t help but feel that he’d failed somehow if he was still suffering so badly.

The hardest part was always not being able to wake him. All the specialists- Sam included, had told him outright that waking someone up during a night terror was basically a terrible idea, only leading to disorientation at best and, at worst, setting off a waking panic attack.

Steve had found that Bucky usually woke up after his anyway, so the best way to cope was to wait it out, perched at the end of the bed whilst the other man flailed about, shouting incomprehensibly.

Thankfully, tonight the episode only lasted for a few minutes, and Steve was waiting calmly as Bucky’s eyes opened in a way that was obviously comprehending of the world around him.

He blinked in the low light, muttering, “Steve?”

“Hey, Buck.”

Even though he was already laying down, Bucky seemed to manage to slump further, sinking into his mattress hopelessly as he said, “I had a night terror again?”

It wasn’t a question, not really.

“Do you remember anything?”

“No. I just feel sweaty and tired, like I always do.”

“How are you feeling emotionally?”

“Drained. My heart rate is up but I’m not- I don’t feel the panic. I’m just exhausted.”

Steve nodded, placing his hands behind him and leaning into them slightly to haul himself up, “Alright, I’ll let you get some more rest.”

He started to head back towards the doorway, but halted in his path when he heard Bucky speak up again.

“Wait.”

Turning on his heel, he watched the other man attentively as his facial expression shifted from pleading to sheepish, his body language small and guarded.

“Can you… You used to come and lie with me while I calmed down, in the early days, right?”

Steve’s eyes widened, “You remember that?”

“I- yeah, I do. It was… Nice.”

Steve’s heart was full. He’d assumed that those initial nights, during the settling in period of the first few weeks, were long forgotten by now. Bucky had been nearly nonverbal at that point, responding pretty much only to direct questions and even then, usually opting for monosyllabic grunts rather than actual answers.

He had, however, seemed to seek out Steve’s company specifically, becoming visibly calmer when his closest friend was with him. It made it difficult to leave his side at all, but Steve would never mind that, especially since he’d been equally eager to spend as much time with the Bucky as possible, now that he’d found him again.

“It was the only thing that seemed to settle you.” Steve replied, walking back over to the bed, and sitting down on top of the covers, swivelling around, and leaning back to lay next to Bucky. He missed the intimacy of not having a sheet between them, sure, but this was the closest to romance that they had been this side of the millennium.

“It used to settle you, too.” Bucky replied distantly, his mind obviously somewhere else, “When you were small, and you got sick all the time. I used to…”

_“Buck, you’re gonna catch this fever too if you keep lying on top of me.”_

_“Nah,” Bucky replied lazily, clinging to Steve’s side like a koala, “I’ve been sick already this year, ’m not worried.”_

_Steve shifted, turning to be on his side, facing Bucky, instead on laying on his back as he had been. He sort of enjoyed it when they were horizontal, so that Bucky could tuck his head into Steve’s shoulder, rather than the other way round. It was nice to feel like the bigger guy every now and then._

_Bucky’s eyes were mere inches from his own, big and grey and searching, and constantly flickering between Steve’s eyes and his mouth._

_Steve chuckled gently, answering the silent question with, “Alright, but if you weren’t gonna catch this bug already, you sure will after this.”_

_“I’m willing to take that risk.” Bucky insisted, moving closer to him and meeting Steve’s slightly parted lips with his own._

“Used to what, Buck?” Steve asked. Tentative. Hopeful.

“Can you turn around? Towards me?” Bucky said, well aware that answering Steve’s questions with another question would irk him, but also that he wouldn’t say anything about it.

Sure enough, his companion complied, turning onto his side to face Bucky, who did the same towards Steve. The distance between their faces could be bridged with a toothpick, and Bucky could feel his pulse quickening as he weighed up whether or not what he was about to do was worth it.

Steve’s breath was warm against his own, and familiar. He also recognised the butterflies, the dilation of the pupils facing his own, and the roaring thud of his heartbeat which seemed to weaken his limbs.

“Please just- don’t move.” Bucky said softly, then leaned in until he felt a sensation that grounded him more than anything else in the 21st century had managed to. The kiss was quick, and uncertain, and Steve was completely frozen in place, apparently taking his request seriously, but Bucky knew that he _knew_ the feeling, recognised it better than his own reflection.

And then he was laughing, half through anxiousness and half at the ridiculousness of it all, that he should be so wracked with timidity at such a simple act. It had seemed to natural in the moment, but now that he’d pulled away, he couldn’t bring himself to look back at Steve again, in case his memory wasn’t a memory at all, but a pleasant dream amongst his many nightmares.

“Bucky-” Steve began, but he was already in hysterics now, unable to dam the flood of emotions that had decided to surface now of all moments. His laughter had given way to crying, and as his body heaved as he bawled, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his torso, tight and sure.

“Bucky.” Steve repeated, curling his body around the shaking form beside him completely, right leg hooked around Bucky’s waist and his head resting over his shoulder. “Breathe.”

This felt familiar too. A warm body against his own, pulling him in close, although he had a feeling they used to do this the other way around. Breathing was easy was like this, with a guide inhaling and exhaling slowly next to his ear where he could hear it clearly, chest expanding and contracting against his back.

“We were- please, tell me we were-”

“We were.” Steve said plainly, though his voice was a little high pitched, “We- we are, if that’s what you still want. We can be.”

Bucky scrunched his eyes tight shut and took hold of the arms around his chest, holding them even closer to himself, if that was possible. He had questions, but now wasn’t the moment for them; he just wanted to feel sane here, for a while. Besides, what his hippocampus struggled to put together, his nerve endings seemed to remember, so the pedantic details didn’t seem to matter so much.

“I always was.” He promised, “I told you- ‘til the end of the line, and I’m not dead yet.”

Steve made a choked sound, somewhere between a laugh and sob and then replied, “No. And I think we’ve got a whole lot of living to catch up on, pal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to be like 5,000 words but I got slightly carried away and here we are, but I'm enjoying writing this one. 
> 
> As always, comments/kudos make my day if you feel inclined :)
> 
> (also, if you want to come talk to me on tumblr you can find me at https://leashlessconfusion.tumblr.com/)


	3. And So We Hold Each Other Tightly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for a brief mention of sexual assault- more details in the end notes.

“He let me kiss him back today,” Steve confided, his face burning despite his determination not to let himself get flustered, “completely out of nowhere. Asked if he could kiss me again and then he was all, ‘You know, you can move too if you like, pal’.”

Sam chuckled, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair, head tilted to one side as he observed Steve’s expression. “And how do you feel about that?”

“Oh, you know.” Steve bit his lip, his face scrunching up in concentration, “Taken aback. Overjoyed. Completely fucking terrified.”

“Where’s the fear coming from?”

Steve hummed quietly, looking anywhere he could that wasn’t Sam’s face, as if scouring his surroundings for an answer. “Initially I was concerned about breaching the boundaries he’d set up- I figured those were there for a reason, so I asked him- I asked if he was sure he wanted to move things on this fast and he said that nobody has touched him- kindly, that is- since- well, you know. He’s been missing the affection.”

Sam nodded, “Sometimes neglect hurts just as much as physical pain. The fact that he’s opening up and letting you be the first to remedy that is encouraging.”

“Right,” Steve agreed, “But-”, he hesitated momentarily, chewing on his lip, “am I an awful person for being sort of relieved when he told me he was completely touch starved, though? I was so worried at first that maybe someone _had_ \- uh,” He caught himself, looking distinctly uncomfortable, “a lot of what Hydra inflicted on him was off the record, so I had suspicions that they could’ve- he wasn’t in a place to consent to anything, and I had the thought more than once that maybe they’d-” He was visibly shaken, forehead beginning to gleam with sweat, “but he, uh, he said it wasn’t like that, ever, thank God. More the opposite, apparently. They wouldn’t lay a finger on him at all unless they were trying to force him back into that machine, not if they could help it. And that’s horrible, but at least they didn’t- I don’t know what I’d have done if they’d-”

Sam reached out a hand across the table, tapping his friend’s forearm gently, attempting to relieve his elevating stress.

“I know, Steve. I know.”

Steve shook his head slowly, “I shouldn’t be having those thoughts. I need to stop lingering on what they may or may not have done and move on, for his sake, but…”

“These things take time. There is no instant fix, and there’s no definitive guide on how you choose to navigate your relationship from here. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re in a pretty unique situation.”

Steve blanched, raising his hand to the bridge of his nose, and pinching it in frustration. Sam offered a sympathetic smile, patting his arm once more.

“You’re doing really well, man. Really well,” He reassured, “trust me. If most couples paid half as much attention to each other as you do to Bucky, a lot of marriage counsellors would be out of a job.”

Steve’s pallid face warmed a little, as he awkwardly laughed, “If you say so.”

“I know so. Cut yourself some slack, Steve, you two have come a long way.”

He supposed, in retrospect, that they had.

-

Bucky was practically purring as Steve fussed with his hair, leaning back into the touch with his eyes blissfully closed, his form relaxed and pliant. Steve adored these private moments- the pair of them were alone in what was now their room, him standing in his boxer shorts, yet to be dressed, and Bucky cross-legged in front of him on their bed, clothed only in a towel which he’d wrapped around his waist after his morning shower. It all felt so easy.

“I used to do this for your sisters.” Steve said softly, dividing Bucky’s hair into a pair of neat bunches so he could plait each of them.

“I remember.” Bucky replied, “They always hated it when I did it. Used to beg me to call you over to fix their braids because I didn’t have the same knack for it.” His tone was fond as he added, “Ingrates.”

“That’s news to me.”

“I’m surprised. They never used to shut up about you, it’s your artistic streak.” Tilting his head back further as Steve pulled the first plait taut and started to tie the end, he looked up at his face and asked, “D’you still draw? Haven’t seen you pick up a pencil since I’ve been here.”

“I do, sometimes.” Steve said, tugging gently at the edges of the braid he’d created to loosen it a little, “Only when I’m alone, really. Mostly landscapes.”

“You need a live model again?”

“Bucky!” Steve chided, dropping the now finished plait and flicking the back of his neck in a mock reprimand. Bucky just laughed, chasing Steve’s hand with his own and grabbing hold of it, pulling it forwards to rest where his right shoulder met his neck.

“Didn’t seem to have any qualms about it in the forties.”

That was true. It seemed that all evidence of certain drawings he’d done in his youth had been erased; charcoal sketches outlining Bucky’s form in almost every position imaginable- he’d always been an inventive muse. Steve wasn’t sure who had decided to preserve his reputation- it could’ve been Howard, or perhaps one of the Howlies, and whilst he appreciated the gesture in a sense, a part of him was a little miffed that the art no longer existed.

“I can tell what you’re thinking, you know.” Bucky smiled knowingly, his blue-grey eyes still staring up at Steve, “But you have it in you to recreate them all. If you drew me once, you can sure as hell draw me again.”

“I’m not so sure.”

Steve frowned a little, taking his hand from Bucky’s grasp and moving it towards the half of his hair that wasn’t yet braided, combing his fingers through it pensively.

Bucky’s eyes grew less certain. “Unless… You don’t have to draw the arm or anything, I know it looks messy, and the scarring-”

“What do you- no, Buck, I just meant I don’t think I’ve practiced anatomy enough lately, not that- Christ, I love every part of you, doll, you’re gorgeous. Do you not still know that?”

Bucky had always had a cocksuredness about him when he was young- of course, he’d always been attractive but the fact that he _knew it_ somehow made him even more so. He’d dripped in confidence, never lacking faith in his ability to impress a potential lover. Least of all Steve.

“I know I look… Different.” He said uncomfortably now, dodging the question.

Steve let go of Bucky’s hair, tucking the loose side behind his ear then climbing up onto the bed to sit opposite him. “Hey,” He coaxed quietly, “look at me.”

Reluctantly, Bucky obliged, peering up at Steve through his dark eyelashes.

“Do you really think I’m any less attracted to you than I used to be?”

He pulled a face, “I’m not an idiot, Steve. You don’t have to feel guilty about it, anyone would prefer me the way I was back then.”

Steve didn’t miss the way Bucky’s right hand went to cover the scars along his left pectoral, at the seam between his own flesh and the prosthetic arm Tony had fashioned him months ago.

Steve raised an eyebrow, “Tell me, then, were you more or less attracted to me before I had the serum?”

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” Bucky started, indignance overtaking his expression, “You know it doesn’t make a difference to- _oh_.”

Steve rolled his eyes, reaching to take both of Bucky’s hands in his, “You aren’t the only one who’s changed, Buck. Some things are temporary, but the way I feel about you- well. It’s a part of me. I love every aspect of you, and if you think I find your body any less beautiful now than I did when we were teenagers, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Bucky bowed his head, his brow furrowing deeply as he tried to absorb the words.

“Come here.” Steve whispered simply, placing Bucky’s arms around his waist then wrapping his own over Bucky’s shoulders, pulling him in close. “We always knew our bodies would change with age, didn’t we? Maybe not to what extent, but I don’t remember ever caring. I wanted you then, I want you now and I always will.”

_“What do you think we’ll look like when we’re old?”_

_“Why’re you asking me that?” Steve wondered aloud, shading in the curve of Bucky’s lower lip in his sketchbook._

_The expression was always difficult to get just so; especially now, since the lighting was so harsh, illuminating one half of his face and obscuring the other. His body had been easier to delineate, the lines chiselled and decisive, but there was a definite challenge in depicting his mouth._

_Bucky shrugged, then rectified his position when he remembered he was supposed to be still. “Just wondering. Neither of us got to see our fathers age, so…”_

_Steve hummed, lifting his pencil from the paper and sticking the end in his mouth, chewing it thoughtfully._

_“I think the years will suit you.” He said, finally, “I can picture it now. Grey hair, pair of spectacles, maybe a more filled out beard.”_

_“Jerk.” Bucky shot back immediately, raising a hand up to his admittedly patchy stubble. Steve just huffed out a laugh, then returned to his drawing, apparently finished with the conversation. “What,” Bucky asked, “you don’t want to know what I think you’ll look like?”_

_“Not particularly.” Steve said, pencilling over his outline of Bucky’s chin, “We’ll both find out at some point anyway. Speculation doesn’t change anything.”_

_“Right.” Bucky nodded, trying to conceal the smile forming at the implication that Steve planned on growing old with him. Then he shifted slightly, asking, “When’s your sketch going to be finished, anyway? It’s freezing in here.”_

_“You can put your dick away if that’s what you’re asking. I finished your body twenty minutes ago.”_

_“And you didn’t think to tell me?” He complained, already reaching for his pants, “It isn’t exactly toasty in here.”_

_“Forgive me for taking my time enjoying the view.” Steve smirked, “I’m not old yet.”_

_“It’s not much of a view in this cold.” Bucky sniffled, scowling at Steve when his smirk only grew wider._

“I’ll always want you, too.” Bucky mumbled into Steve’s neck, “I didn’t even know my own name and I still recognised you as mine. I just wonder sometimes why the hell someone like you would choose me of all people, but I think I used to wonder about that before, too.”

“I know you did. You tried to set me up with every girl in the neighbourhood before you let me have you.”

“I remember that.” Bucky snorted, “Wanted them to like you so badly. Couldn’t understand why they didn’t see you like I did.”

“Wouldn’t have helped if they had.” Steve replied, “The USO girls liked me just fine but it didn’t change the fact that I couldn’t like _them_. Women tend to sense things like that.”

“Never did with me. I dated them for years.”

Steve pinched Bucky’s upper right arm, “Alright, Casanova. Pretty certain none of them saw you as marriage material.”

“No. I chose to cultivate a very specific image, if you didn’t notice.”

Steve pinched him again, then proceeded to topple back laughing when Bucky poked the side of his abdomen in return.

“Your hair still isn’t finished; it’s falling in my face!” He complained as Bucky wrapped his thighs around Steve’s waist and peppered kisses down his neck.

“Should’ve thought about that earlier.” Came the response, and soon Steve found that the hair he could feel trailing further and further down his skin failed to capture much of his attention in comparison to other parts of Bucky’s anatomy.

-

Tony discovered Bucky’s penchant for science far too soon for Steve’s liking. Now, including Peter, there were three people who he was vaguely concerned would manage to blow themselves up, as if he didn’t have enough on his plate already.

He’d been wary of leaving the pair of them alone but had little choice in the matter, given that he was supposed to be allowing Bucky to readjust to the real world and that meant allowing him to make his own decisions and spend more time with other people. Natasha had informed him that he was basically Ferberizing himself and whilst he didn’t appreciate the comparison to an infant, the analogy was fairly sound.

So here he was, out for a pleasant coffee with Sam, Natasha and Clint whilst his boyfriend and Tony Stark were destroying god knows what back at the tower.

He supposed he should just be happy that they were getting on.

-

“For reference, next time I say ‘can you hold that’ it might be a good idea to, I don’t know, fucking keep hold of it until I tell you to let go? Not much point in having a bionic arm if your brain isn’t sending it the right signals.”

Tony and Bucky were slumped against the white plaster wall, surrounded by mountains of foam as a result of a mass extinguishing on the liquid fire they’d managed to initiate. Sometimes science was messy.

“Oh, _my_ brain is the problem here? You gave me about ten conflicting instructions in the space of three minutes, how the hell was I supposed to-”

“I have ADHD! You should know by now when I mean something and when I’m just making background noise. The kid figured it out quickly enough.”

“Of course he did! He’s a miniature you.”

Tony pondered on this for a second, then muttered, “Shit, you’re right. I should ask him if he’s been tested.”

Bucky just rolled his eyes, straightening up and nodding towards the elevator, “Can we go somewhere else? I feel like I’m sitting in the middle of a snowstorm.”

Tony shrugged, “Sure. Not much point dwelling on the failure.”

They ended up choosing the common floor, since the other on-planet Avengers were otherwise occupied- Bruce with a lecture he was hosting, and the others with their coffee date. Hence, it was quiet, but also a change of scenery from the majority of Bucky’s experience from the past few months. Sam had informed him that it was healthy to gradually familiarise himself with a wider variety of spaces.

“Peter’s still here, right?”

“Hm?” Tony placed two steaming hot mugs of black coffee on the glass low table in front of Bucky, then continued, “Oh. Yeah. He isn’t keen on going home any time soon, and I can’t really blame him. Why do you ask?”

“Haven’t seen him in a couple of days.”

The tower was the sort of building where if you wanted to be lost, you could achieve it with relative ease. Bucky knew that first-hand from his more trying days.

“He’s mostly been keeping to himself.” Tony replied, taking a seat beside Bucky on the sofa with a sigh, “I check in on him whenever I can, but I don’t want to suffocate him. I’ve been so- I’m so glad he has you two to talk to about everything, because I _know_ I can’t understand this like you and Steve can. I just wish I knew how to… I can’t make him come out of his room and talk about it more, but I’m sick of seeing him suffer. I feel so fucking useless.”

“Stark.” Bucky began, putting his coffee down and looking Tony in the eye, “You’re not useless. You know it, I know it, and the kid knows it. He _adores_ you. So we’re going to march up there with a plan of action and help him because I know all about living as a recluse, and it benefits nobody.”

Tony nodded, then the motion slowed slightly as he turned to glance at Bucky inquisitively.

“What’s the plan of action?”

-

Steve shifted uncomfortably in his chair, folding his arms tightly and letting out a pronounced breath. His eyes shifted to look at Bucky, beside him, who seemed equally uneased, and then Tony, opposite Bucky, who was apparently very preoccupied with staring at his fingernails. Finally, Steve’s gaze landed on May Parker.

“So,” Came her voice from across the table, “where’s Peter?”

That, at least, he could answer.

“He said he’d prefer not to be here. He’s still at the tower.”

“I see.” She said softly, “So he isn’t coming home yet.”

Steve frowned a little, “I think that might be up to you.” At her subsequent raised brow, he elaborated, “Your nephew would love to come home, but the question is whether he’s going to feel safe and comfortable enough to do so.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I think you are.” Bucky interjected, expression tight as he sized her up, “Look, we all know what we’re actually here to talk about, it’s pointless acting like we don’t. Can we please discuss this like adults instead of tiptoeing around it?”

The men all turned to May as her countenance melded from defensive to somewhat resigned, and she finally nodded, avoiding Bucky’s gaze.

“I did suspect that maybe he’d told you all that he thinks he’s- well, he’s been under the impression that he’s-”

“That he’s what?” Bucky asked flatly, “Gay? It isn’t a dirty word.”

She seemed nonplussed. Steve could only imagine her surprise at a centenarian lecturing her about homophobia, but then again, he supposed she'd known that was why they were here. Peter had texted her about the proposed meeting very vaguely, but he hadn't needed to be explicit given the current circumstances of his relationship with his aunt.

“Buck…” Steve said gently, tapping the crook of his elbow, but Bucky shook his head.

“No, Steve, she needs to hear it. May, Peter doesn’t _think_ he’s anything, he _knows_ it. He’s a smart kid, and if he weren’t confident in his identity then there’s no way he’d have risked that level of rejection from his peers and the people he looks up to. You must know that.”

Even in the crowded café they’d chosen to gather in, the air seemed quiet and heavy as they waited for her response.

“He’s so young…” She began, and Bucky opened his mouth as if to interrupt, but Steve shot him a look that stopped him instantly.

She continued, “I know he must think- he does seem so certain that this is the choice he wants to make, going forward, but it isn’t… My family, we’ve always been religious. Our convictions dictate that even if he feels like he’s, you know, he shouldn’t be acting on it. It’s a sin, and it’s one that’ll see him judged on the mortal plane too.” She sighed, “I know how his classmates have treated him. I don’t want him to go through life suffering like that. I just want him to be normal.”

A silence ensued as the three men seemed to wordlessly confer about who would be the one to speak first. In the end, Tony took on the responsibility, tilting his head to face May.

“With all due respect, I don’t think normal has ever been an option for Peter, whatever ‘normal’ is supposed to mean, anyhow. To say that your nephew is a genius is an understatement, and I know his classmates have given him grief over that, too.”

Tony sighed, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as he continued, “My point is, you wouldn’t want to change that, despite the fact that his life might be easier for it. It’s the people around him that need to adjust their attitudes, because if everyone caved to peer pressure and decided to try and be ‘normal’ then it’d be a pretty fucking boring world to live in.”

“Being gay isn’t the same as being smart.” May said with a derisive look, “People stop teasing the smart kids eventually, and they find new friends on their own wavelength. This is- it’s something else, Tony, and you know it.”

“Maybe I'm wrong,” Tony shrugged, “but I’m pretty sure that doesn’t sound accurate. From what I hear, the gay kids also eventually find people who support them, and cut ties with the people who don’t. Is that what you want?”

May turned her face away, paling a fraction.

Steve took the opportunity to speak.

“When we- uh, Bucky and I, that is- when we were young, the Bible didn’t say anything explicit about homosexuality.”

May looked over to him, her eyes openly inquisitive. Steve briefly wondered if she had pieced together the nature of his relationship with Bucky yet.

“People have always had certain interpretations about what ‘sexual immorality’ encompasses, sure, but the word ‘homosexual’ wasn’t actually included until after I went under the ice. The scripture has been translated in a lot of ways across the years, but it’s clear to me that that decision was clouded by human bias.”

“I didn’t know that.” May muttered quietly, under her breath.

All eyes were on Steve now, so he took a breath and continued.

“Peter isn’t making a choice. He’s telling you how he’s been feeling for a long time, and that isn’t something that will change if you ignore it. What _will_ change is the degree to which he trusts you, and how often you’ll see him after he moves out for college.” He leaned back in his chair, adding, “He’s growing up. He knows himself and he wants you to know him too, but if you keep pretending that his sexuality is a phase, you’re going to drift apart very quickly.”

At that, May’s complexion paled further, her eyes dampening as she formulated a response.

“It just seems such a hard life. I don’t want people to treat him differently, he’s already had to endure so much pain…”

Bucky replied, “So don’t become part of the problem. He needs a strong network of people who care about him, now more than ever. You think he’s going to give a toss what a bunch of assholes have to say about him if he has your support? The kid loves you, and he needs you to back him up more than anyone.”

_Sarah Rogers was dying._

_It was undeniable now; after weeks of denying the doctor’s assertions that she was showing little improvement, it had finally dawned on Steve and Bucky that this was really going to be the end. They slept in shifts, Bucky making the promise that if she worsened further, he would wake Steve up in the hope that he wouldn’t miss his opportunity to say goodbye._

_Now, Bucky was sitting by her bedside, watching her rest with a horrible, dense feeling weighing on his chest. He wanted to make himself believe that the sensation was caused by his compassion for the woman who had been like a second mother to him, but if he were being brutally honest he’d be able to admit that it was more selfish than that._

_In truth, seeing her in this way felt like a premonition of a future he dreaded to contemplate. Every time the Priest had come by to give Steve his last rites, Bucky had been dead certain that he’d prove everyone wrong, and so far he had. Bucky had convinced himself that Steve Rogers was made of stronger stuff than anyone knew, and whilst that was still true- he was sure of it- here was the woman who’d made him the man he was, approaching her last breath faster with every day that passed._

_Sarah Rogers’ mortality was a stark reminder of Steve’s, and Bucky wasn’t sure he could handle that._

_“You’re just as bad as him.” She uttered, so quietly that initially Bucky could scarcely hear her, “That son of mine has been giving me his sorry glances for days, and here I was thinking you’d know better.”_

_Bucky tried to chuckle at that, but it came out more like a sob._

_“Oh come now, none of that.” Her frail hand reached for Bucky’s arm, holding it weakly as she attempted a smile. He tried to return it, but he knew it was in vain. She had a knack for reading his eyes, just like her son._

_“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, watching her fingers where they were wrapped around his wrist, and thinking of how ridiculous it was that just months ago, they were tending to Steve’s wounds, expertly tying sutures and now they could hardly grip._

_Her smile fell slightly, “No, none of that, either. You need to be kind to yourself.”_

_Her eyes darted to where Steve lay curled up in the corner, his chest rising and falling evenly as he slept. Bucky followed her gaze, unable to prevent the fondness from seeping into his expression; he looked more contented than he had in a long time. Usually, his sleep was uneasy lately, but now he seemed truly at peace._

_“I won’t ask you to look after him,” Sarah’s voice interrupted his thoughts, “because I know you will.”_

_“We look after each other.” Bucky said softly without even thinking._

_At that, Sarah’s countenance faltered, and Bucky raised a brow in a silent question._

_“I wanted to tell you, before I go,” she waved off the protest forming on his lips at the mention of her own fate, “I wanted you to know that you have my blessing.”_

_The pit in Bucky’s chest expanded and sank to the bottom of his stomach._

_“What do you mean?”_

_“James-”_

_“No! I don’t- Steve and I, we, we’re like brothers, we- I mean, we know each other like nobody else does, but-”_

_“Yes, in the biblical sense from I’ve gleaned.”_

_“Sarah-”_

_“Oh, hush. I couldn’t wish for anyone better for him. I want- James, please, breathe.”_

_He tried his best to oblige._

_“I’ve always seen you as a second son. Please, understand that my awareness of the extent of your relationship with Steve only strengthens that.”_

_“Does he- have you told him?”_

_She nodded. “I knew it was weighing on his conscience.”_

_“It killed him to have to keep it from you.”_

_Sarah hummed softly, “Well, I can die contented that he wont experience any more guilt. Neither of you should feel guilty for loving one another.” She tilted her head, remarking, “He looks happier this morning, don’t you think?”_

_Bucky nodded, craning his neck again to see Steve snoring gently. Once he turned back, Sarah was falling asleep too, her grip on his wrist loosening before she let go entirely and he placed her hand delicately onto the bedsheets._

The collectively baited breaths around the table were released when May finally spoke again.

“I'll talk to him." She gritted her jaw resolutely, "I don't want him to feel like I'm not on his side, not ever. This is- I need time to adjust, but I'll try my best to understand, for his sake. I'd do anything for him.”

-

Steve startled as Bucky snuck up behind him and plucked his phone from his hand unannounced.

“Hey!”

“No more browsing right-wing twitter accounts, pal, we agreed on this.”

“But they’re saying-”

“I know exactly what they’re saying. That’s why you’re not looking at them.”

Coming out publicly hadn’t been as stressful an ordeal as expected, but that wasn’t to say it was plain sailing. The more liberal side of the media had had a field day, immediately publishing thousands upon thousands of thinkpieces about what a gay Captain America meant for the country. Meanwhile, conservative news outlets had a collective heart attack over it, seeming to wash their hands of him as soon as the press conference aired.

God knew how they’d have reacted if they'd known about Bucky’s history for the past seventy years.

Steve didn’t really care about the news. He did care about the opinions floating around social media, though. The outpouring of support had meant more than he could say, but the highlight of it all was the kids sending him messages about how he gave them the confidence to come out too, or how their parents had been moved to educate themselves about LGBT rights.

As it turned out, helping Peter had only really been the beginning.

“Fine, no more Fox News. Got it.”

“Did someone say Fox News?” Peter asked, his nose wrinkled in disgust as he entered the living room bearing a massive bowl of popcorn.

“Don’t worry, kid, there will be no such garbage on TV tonight.” Bucky reassured him, dipping his metal hand into the bowl and scooping up a huge handful of popcorn, then unceremoniously stuffing it into his mouth.

“What are we watching again?” Steve stood from where he’d been sitting on the sofa, following the procession out to the elevator.

“Oh, some film- Tony mentioned it earlier, but I can’t remember.” Said Bucky, pressing the button for the common floor and stepping in, pursued by the other two.

Peter chewed on a mouthful of popcorn thoughtfully, then supplied, “I think we have the choice between _Moonlight_ and _Love, Simon_. He’s really going in with the pride theme.”

“Fitting, I suppose.” Steve replied, taking the lead once the doors slid open and making his way to the L-shaped sofa. It was already occupied by Sam, Natasha, and Clint. “When does May get here?”

“Pretty sure she’s downstairs already.” Peter said.

“No she isn’t.” Tony’s voice rang through the room, as he came through from the kitchen accompanied by the woman herself, who smiled in greeting and took a seat, beckoning for her nephew to join her. Once everyone had taken their places, Tony announced, “Right, let the movie night commence!” It was honestly pretty neat how those six simple words prompted the lights to dim and the opening titles to roll.

Sitting there with Bucky’s head on his shoulder, his team beside them and his heart warm, Steve promised himself to never spend a Saturday night alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Near the beginning of the chapter, Steve implies that at one point, he was worried that Bucky may have been sexually assaulted as a captive. He confirms that these fears were unfounded.
> 
> Well, we made it to the end! This little duology has honestly been fairly cathartic to write, so I hope you enjoyed reading it!
> 
> As always, comments and kudos make my day, and if you want to come chat on tumblr you can find me at https://leashlessconfusion.tumblr.com/


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